Ambition can easily consume those who possess it. It is a folly that needs to be kept in check, consulted when appropriate and regularly satisfied. Much like a broad, however, the events you are about to learn of are somewhat less appealing to the mistress who frequents my evenings, and more for those who might have the tendency of letting their ambition take charge of their priorities.

I've not got time to wet your appetite for action and misadventure, that particular broad is expecting me soon, and I've still got to check in with the boss since returning from our trip. So, if you care to be enlightened of this tale, cast in your mind the sinful pleasures of Las Vegas, the alluring bright lights, looming overhead streets of excitable chatter which swells with the feckless hope of the desperate and the selfish ambition of the bold...

The rain had seemed persistent. From Illinois onward there had been nothing but downpour, however as soon as the plane had neared Nevada it cleared, leaving no trace of the freak thunder that had shaken up the majority of those on board. Thomas was growing weary, he had never visited Vegas before and felt no thrill in the impending arrival in the Silver State.

He stretched in his seat, shaking his head in response to the flask of liquor offered to him by Silke. He wanted a clear head, he wanted to get this job done and get back to New York, which at this point was beginning to feel an impossible distance away.

The plane shuddered. The wheels touched down.

At the hotel, Tommy paid little notice to the obvious attempts to divert the mind from its usual process. The glittered carpets intentionally drawing attention to the casino entrance, inside which the noise on the gambling floor irritated his attempts to focus his thoughts. His eyes wandered for a moment on the half naked blonde subtly ushering the clientele into the casino.

She graciously stepped back and forth around the entrance, gently touching each guest on the arm or shoulder. Her attire was respectable enough to not make her appear trashy or cliché, and the way she moved away from any advances suggested she felt comfortable, secure and confident in her role. He followed the curve of her back up to her bare neck, lingering for a moment on her lips, before noticing the smile they had curved into was for him.

He returned the favor, though it was void of any real sincerity, and returned his attention to the reception desk.
Once outside his room, Tommy was handed a picture by Silke. He stared at it for a few moments, recalling the story he was told by one of the Bosses back in Stanten Isle.

Bart Drape had never been considered as disloyal. Open, approachable, efficient. Who could have suspected him as being a victim of his own ambition? His actions had always been a direct result of the orders issued to him. Hindsight made it clear that every order he had been given however, was able to suit his own agenda.

He was sent to Vegas five years ago to tie up the last deal with a Corrupt Agent based in Nevada. Over 300 units of cocaine had been accumulated during his time among the casinos, the deal was worth over $10,000,000, which was due to be escorted back to the East Coast by Drape. All arrangements to bring the highly lucrative cargo across numerous states had been made, paid and assured. Officer Trenton had spent most of his time in office under the thumb of the Don, his service and that of two associates came to an end at Drape's hands.

In the five years since, the upper structure had considered him killed by officer Trenton, he was classed as MIA, though the search for all those involved never ended. In this time, Drape weaved his own little web of contacts and fluttered away the money that belonged to the family. His alias during this time was unknown, however he was arrogant, insolent and uncontrollable. His own outfit based in the heart of Vegas made him feel protected and confident. It wasn't long until Roberto Cicci, the protection racket officer operating in the area, sent word of a new business in his district; Drape's Den.

The image in Tommy's hands was that of Drape. Cicci, who was working for Silke, had invented the ruse of taking on a new associate to cover a potential expansion of his district, of whom Drape was to be introduced to. Over the last few years, the protection officer had convinced sources close to Drape that the new Associate, Mikael Warner, was out of LA, and that he was highly sought after due to his efficiency. Since Drape would know Silke's image from his time on the East Coast, Tommy was relatively new to the family, and would not be recognised.

The sources who believed they had stumbled across Mikael by themselves, had reported back to Drape, who in turn appointed Cicci to hire him immediately.

Tommy soon found himself outside a comedy club on a street off the main strip. Roberto was conversing with the foot soldiers out front, which eventually resulted in being allowed into Drape's Den.

"Mikael!" The voice echoed around the empty room. A wide framed man began shuffling past chairs to approach the pair. Tommy recalled his image from the picture.

Tommy reacted accordingly to the greeting. He followed Drape into the back room, flanked by two faceless goomba's and Cicci.

He took caution not to focus for too long on anything in the traitors office.

He remained emotionless as Cicci was described as 'Surplus to requirement'

He did not flinch as the loyal protection officer was beaten to death by the goombas.

Soon however, he was alone, Drape had ordered the corpse dragged out into the trash, before turning smugly to Thomas, his face plump with self-righteous pride at his own authority and abuse of power. He began monologuing about his hold over Vegas and how the new partnership would make them both rich. He soon turned away, high on the sound of his own voice and deeply believing every word that poured forth from his bulging lips. His neck was equally as chunky, and the piano wire wrapped among his folds of skin would have gone unnoticed, had Tommy not been gripping it firmly behind Drape's head.

Drape choked, clutching at his neck and clawing at Tommy's hands. His eyes began to sink into his skull. Tommy jerked his arms upwards while trying to kick Drapes feet out from under him. Blood began to seep out of the wound opening up on Drapes neck, Tommy pulled his hands together further, almost crossing them over as he felt the life escape Drape's excessive frame. He relented in ensuring Drape's death, and at the last moment, as Drape realised he was going to die, Gatto whispered a message from the Godfather into his ear, which was the last thing he ever heard.

The corpse crumpled to the ground, his bowels had opened, as had the wound on his neck. The wire remained embedded within it, a clear indication of the man's macabre end.

The Goomba's could be heard returning through the back door, though Tommy had no intention of being there when they discovered the scene.

"Time to go..."

It was quiet outside the comedy club. As quiet as it could be in the City that Never Sleeps. There was no line of folks waiting at the door to get in. Laughter and raucous boasting could be heard from inside which caught the attention of the random passerby on the side street. A young man with too many drinks in him sloshed by the street light that Silke was standing under. An older gal with a devious sparkle in her eye clung to the lad's arm, as if she was too intoxicated to keep up without his assistance. She was very easy on the eyes, especially the way the dress hugged her body, accentuating her curves. She noticed Silke looking her over and met his eyes with a furious challenge. Giving her a wink and a smile, Silke nodded towards the lad and shook his head, knowing what would happen next. She would be a fun evening affair if not for that devilishness behind her glittering green eyes. Or maybe because of it. . .

The back door of the club slammed open, wrenching Silke's attention away from the thieving seductress. Perhaps the young lad would get away with just being robbed, allowing him to experience future life lessons. The bloody mass two moderate sized men were tossing behind the dumpster in the back alley wasn't so lucky. It's time to go to work. . .

Silke crumpled the paper map in his hands that he was pretending to look at and gestured to the two men as he stumbled towards them. “y’all seen a petite Asian beauty run by?” Silke slurred. “She couldnda gone far!” The Goomba closest to Silke started to shoo him off, “You shouldn't be out here.” He pulled out his gun and began motioning towards the street leading back to the main strip with it. “You better get on somewhere before it gets dangerous for you!”. Just as he finished, Silke drunkenly collided with the man and was roughly pushed away. Furious, the man started to raise his gun towards Silke, who gave a startled look of inebriated confusion. Anger melted from the man's face and was replaced by his own confusion. He glanced down at his ribs just as the second Goomba arrived to investigate. His shirt was wet with a dark liquid that was spreading. Realization dawned on him as he started to raise his gun again and the anger returned. Silke quickly dropped the paper map which was now bright red, and in a flurry of motion, grabbed the man's wrist, broke his arm, and slammed his head into the second Goomba's skull. The first Goomba crumpled to the ground in a heap while the second was reeling from the blow to the head.

Silke snatched up the paper map from the ground and advanced towards the remaining Goomba. A glint of light reflected off something metallic at the end of the paper map just before it was jammed into the man's throat. Gurgling and spluttering, the Goomba attempted to scream for help as he ran back to the back door. Grabbing the shirt collar of the first Goomba, Silke dragged his lifeless corpse back to the dumpster where Cicci's body lay. The other Goomba had fallen to the ground just in front of the back door and finally stopped moving.

A commotion was beginning to stir on the side of the comedy club. A small crowd was gathering and a few of Las Vegas' finest were heading this way. One officer had his name badge partially concealed so the name couldn't be read.

Quickly moving to the dumpster, Silke took the knife that the paper map was crumpled around and put it in Cicci's hand. He hesitated for a moment over the once loyal officer. Cicci was a smart man for a copper. It was the first officer Silke turned and had working for him. It was unfortunate that his usefulness had come to an end, but he was about to be exposed in the department. Silke would have preferred to do the deed himself; give the man at least that much respect for his good work.

The police were getting closer. After digging in Cicci's coat pocket, Silke looked up from the dead man and met the nameless officer's eyes. Throwing a quick wink and a smile, Silke dashed through the open back door. . .

Thomas had barely made it out of Drapes office when he heard the goomba's shuffle in through the back door. He could only smirk at the thought of the scene they were discovering. There was little time to enjoy the moment, however. In hindsight, Thomas considered that a knife would have left Drape alive and raised his chances of escape. The meat-heads would have focussed more on saving their Dons life than pursing his assailant, or at least bought Gatto some more time while they desperately pumped his chest and frantically tried to stem his life fluids from pouring out over the carpet. Either way, the deed had already been done and Tommy had completed what was required of him, regardless of his own fate.

The sound of the club's evening entertainment could be heard down the hall, the night was just kicking off. The clientele roared with laughter, the bootleg liquor sloshing around in their gullets and fuelling their accentuated amusement. Variously placed around the club, Tommy spied shadowy figures, Drapes additional forces who were hired primarily as security. They eyed up Gatto as he casually approached the doorway. He was now stood behind the bar among the staff, who were swiftly going about their nightly routine. It would appear that the club had some extensive contacts, being as liquor was so openly available. It would be rare to encounter a cop who wasn't getting his palm greased by Drape.

"Can I help you, honey?" A young, black haired beauty approached him with a tray of drinks.

She didn't express the offer of assistant in her features however, and was clearly unimpressed with her chosen occupation. Her black shirt was unbuttoned lower than she probably would have appreciated, and the skirt was also revealing much of her lower half.
Thomas had little time to admire the girl though, and after initially ignoring her approach he quickly glanced over his shoulder, then around at the unseen eyes bearing down upon him before making a decision.

"Uh… Yeah, you got a pen?" He muttered, not making eye contact but still assessing the room.

"Sure" Her voice was soft, the western accent subtle and attractive.

She handed him a pen, which Tommy stuck behind his ear while quickly stripping himself of his jacket. Suspecting an approach any second from within the office, he pulled the girl towards him, kissing her intensely. He span her around so they were out of sight of the main bar, a motion so smooth that made Tommy realise she wasn't going to voice much objection. The tray remained steady; a testimony to her dexterity, and Tommy felt her excitement at the impromptu moment they shared. He untied her smock and pulled away, whipping it over her head and flashing a quick smile.

"Thanks, sweetheart"

There wasn't time to allow for her reaction, as Gatto quickly shifted his appearance to that of a waiter, and immersed himself among the crowds.

Silke wasn't sure what to expect upon entering the building, but it was a better option than staying outside with three corpses and coppers starting to swarm, especially when one of the corpses was a cop. After swiftly shutting the door behind him, Silke surveyed the area. He was standing in a moderate sized storage room circled by shelves full of paper goods, tablecloths, and napkins. Grabbing one of the tablecloths, he moves a chair near the door and patiently waits. Predictably, the door busts open and one of the officers steps through with his gun out front. Silke knocks the officer's arm down with his elbow, making him drop the gun, and then wraps the tablecloth around him. Once the officer is secured, Silke kicks the door shut again and lodges the chair behind the handle, making it temporarily unable to open. Alone with the immobilized officer, Silke takes another chair and sits down next to his quarry.

“We don't have much time before your boys bust down that door, so let's get down to business.” Sillke states matter-of-factly. Looking into the officer's eyes, he is recognized as the one with the partially covered name badge. “It seems you've been working closely with Cicci, so you must know who I am.” Motioning to his covered chest, “Covering the name was one of our signs we used when working together. Made it harder to identify who the 'officer in charge' was and let us work anonymously through the system.”

The nameless officer stared at his assailant furiously and started demanding to be released immediately. “I am a police officer and WILL NOT be treated this way! There will be consequences for-” he started shouting, but Silke cut him off in mid-sentence.

“I said we don't have much time, so shut up and nod your head yes or no” Silke said sternly, his agitation showing clearly. “As you can see, Cicci is no longer working with me, so I am in need of someone that can take over his 'duties'. Either you can be that special officer, or you can go visit Cicci on the other side. But you need to decide quickly. . . maybe this will help”. Silke pulled out a bundle of cash from his jacket pocket and waved it in front of the nameless officer. “This is a down payment for your services tonight. More will find it's way to you once my colleague and I are safely out of this city. Then we can discuss future dealings in more detail under more civilized conditions.”

The officer's eyes glazed over at the sight of the cash, greed settling in just as expected. “I think we can work something out” said the officer, not taking his eyes off the money. Silke nodded as he let the tablecloth loosen around the officer's body, allowing him to free himself and grab the money. “This is what I need from you” Silke begins. “First you need to get the heat off me and my colleague, Then . . .”

A little while later, Silke found himself looking into the main room of the comedy club from the kitchen door. The place was in full swing. The staff was hustling about to serve drinks or clean up messes made by the noisy patrons who were just as busy fondling serving girls as watching the show. There were a good number of 'security' folks scattered throughout the main room.

“Pretty smart kid” Silke mumbled to himself as he noticed a waiter mingling through the rest of the staff, staying out of sight of 'security'. “Doubt I would have thought of that.”

A shapely hostess caught Silke's eye. His attention would have lingered on her if the front door hadn't suddenly burst open, black and whites pouring inside the main room. . .

Gatto was grabbed firmly by the collar and dragged into view of inspection by one officer who was clearly flaunting his own importance. The red-faced, blonde moustache looked him up and down for a few moment as chaos erupted around them. Drape's Wise Guys were hesitant in their reaction, looking to each other for guidance on the situation. Most of them were clobbered as they grasped desperately for their firearm, still undecided as to if they were to defend themselves or surrender. The grim fate of their boss was still unbeknownst to them, so the calamitous response was probably one of fear, the fear of doing the wrong thing.

The officer holding Gatto soon had his focus broken, as the New Yorker lost his grip on the tray of drinks he had previously commandeered. It clattered to the ground, followed by the shattering of both bottle and glass. Nobody flinched at the sound, such was the riot ensuing in the club, the infuriated moustache snarled at Thomas and ordered him on his way, convinced the waiter was a waste of his time.

There was little time to glance back into the club as Thomas was thrown from one officers grasp to the next, eventually being heaved out the door and into the cool air of Vegas. A sense of relief passed over Thomas, he was out, alive. The gathering crowd soon absorbed him, sirens began howling as patrol cars pulled up, followed by black, un-marked vehicles.

Finding Silke and getting out of here was all he could think about.